We often hear our elders regret that we no longer live in that age of poetry in which they lived twenty or thirty years ago. No one can deny that there is not that atmosphere about us to-day that used to rouse the enthusiasm and stimulate the nobler aspirations of those who were young in the first half of this century. How many causes have wrought this change any one can tell who breathes the commercial air of America. But there are still among us men in whose power it lies to stir our sluggish blood, to broaden our ever-narrowing field of higher enjoyment and to lead us into the sanctuaries of our literature. Is it then asking too much if we request that Mr. James Russell Lowell, an emeritus professor of Harvard, make his influence felt among us? We are well aware that his time is already greatly occupied, but are we, students of this university, to have less claim on his leisure than the political clubs of Chicago? We trust that our appeal will find a gracious hearing, and that we may be able ere long to announce in our columns a course of lectures on English literature by Mr. Lowell.
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A Festivus for the Rest of Us
